This Is My Story
by Kylaa
Summary: Every person has something to say. Something that is their own. These are their stories.
1. Introduction

_Sometimes it rains. Sometimes I smile._

The rain is comforting. It makes me feel like some way, somehow, she's trying to tell me it's okay. That it wasn't my fault.

* * *

_I forgot to say I loved her._

She looked so beautiful. It was my last night with her. I haven't seen her in years. I lost my chance. Damn.

* * *

_I'm still trying to impress my dad._

He supported me. He loved me. But, when I came out of the closet, he could no longer look me in the eye. Everything I do is to prove to him I'm the same boy, the same son he always loved.

* * *

_Cancer for sure. Still no cure._

Maybe that's why I savored those moments when I went over the speed limit, on the highway, in town, on the freeway. At least I'd die on my terms, instead of waiting around for the cancer to break me down.

* * *

_After which he was never sane._

He watched his best friend die. It replays over in his head, and there's no pause button. It's a constant loop. He'll never forget it. He watched his best friend die.

* * *

_I hear nothing and see everyone._

My attention span is nonexistent. That's what my mom said the doctor said. I think. I wasn't listening. I notice everyone though. All your little quirks, I know those, too.

* * *

_She danced and did little else._

Her voice was breathtaking. It was stolen from her that night three years ago. Dancing is all she has left.

* * *

_When all else fails, start running._

Walk. Jog. Run. Sprint. I can try to fix it. I can be there whenever you need. Nothing ever works, though. So, I run.

* * *

_Sometimes at night I lay lonely._

I'm smart. I'm empowered, and confident. I'm alone, however. He still calls, but he doesn't say what I wish he would.

* * *

_The light that night was perfect._

It was the same night I fell in love.

* * *

**Important note:** The _italicized_ part in each of these ideas are excerpts from a book I'm reading. However, the regular text are my own ideas, so please do not take them.

**Author's note: **I would like to eventually write all of these into one-shots, two-shots, or perhaps a story. I'm very excited.

Please let me know which ones you like, if you didn't like any, and which one you think I should start with. I'm curious as to which character you think I'm writing about, too. Some characters have more than one story! So, **please review** letting me know these things.

First one should be up in the next few days if people let me know which to start with.

Xo.


	2. Sometimes It Rains, Sometimes I Smile

**Author's Note:** I started with this one because it was actually the first of these one-shots I thought of, and it inspired me to do the rest of them. So, I hope you enjoy this. Reviews mean the world.

* * *

There are good days. There are bad days. But, mostly it rains.

...

It was our senior year. She was going to go off and be fabulous. That's what she always did. I hoped to do the same, but was often stuck in her shadow. I was so proud of her when she was accepted into Juilliard. But, it hurt so bad to say congratulations. It was like poison in my mouth. The scholarship and acceptance letter, they were supposed to be mine. That's where this all began.

...

She watched the mailbox like a hawk. I, on the other hand, preferred to wait it out patiently. We would know soon enough. If I got in, Sharpay would hold it against me forever. If she got in, I'd swallow down my disappointment, and tell her congratulations.

It was a routine. She waited all morning until the mailman came. Everyday was the same. Her face lit up into excitement at the sight of the white mail truck, but she came in deflated with only bills in her hand.

It was a Tuesday when the letters came.

"Ryan! Mom! Dad!" Sharpay's shrill scream echoed throughout our large house. "Get to the kitchen, NOW!" She was bubbling with happiness.

They had to be our letters from Juilliard. She held her envelope in her dainty hands, mine next to her on the table. She watched me with a grin on her face, waiting for me to pick up my letter. As soon as our parents entered the room, Sharpay ripped hers open. I opened mine as well.

'Dear Mr. Ryan Evans, we regret to inform you that your application to Juilliard has been rejected.' The rest of the words blurred on the page.

"I got in. I got in! Mom! Dad! Ryan! I GOT IN! I GOT IN TO JUILLIARD! I GOT A FULL RIDE SCHOLARSHIP!" Sharpay screamed, dancing around the kitchen. Joy was filling her up, while disappointment weighed me down.

"Congratulations, Shar," I said congenially, but the poison left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

* * *

Over the weeks, my anger built up inside of me. A fiery, red heat that was soon to be set aflame.

We went to go shop for what we'd need in our dorms. That's when Sharpay got her first inkling that I was pissed.

"You'll have so much fun at NYU, Ry. Their performing arts program is wonderful."

"Oh, shut it, Sharpay. You wouldn't want me saying that if it was _you _going to NYU and _me_ going to Juilliard."

She didn't say another word for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Looking back, I shouldn't have let the poison get to me. I should have ignored how bad it made me feel. I should have supported her.

Looking back, I know that, eventually, she would've been able to do that for me.

...

"I'm heading out, Ryan!" Sharpay hollered into the kitchen. I walked out to the foyer, my arms folded across my chest.

"Can you believe only two more months of our senior year, and then we're completely done, Ry?" Sharpay asked dreamily as she slipped on her boots. "Then, we're off to college. How exciting!"

These words were a match, and they lit my anger, letting it rage. "Stop talking about college, Sharpay! Stop it!"

"I'm scared, too, but it'll be amazing," she reassured me, oblivious to the reason for my demand, as she zipped up her coat, and pulled her keys out of her purse.

"You don't fucking get it. You didn't deserve that scholarship, Sharpay! That was supposed to be mine! _I_ deserved it!" She was half way out the door, but turned around in shock to look at me, my words hanging heavily in the air.

My tangent was an invisible slap to my sister's face, stinging her. "I deserved it just as much as you, Ryan." Recalling this day, the calmness in her voice had shocked me, but I was too angry to notice it at the time.

"No, you _didn't_ deserve it. You get everything you want, and I have to work for everything. And I finally wanted something for _myself_, something that would let me step out of your shadow. You're not worthy of Juilliard," I spat. "You think they want an emotional, drama queen who expects everything from everyone whenever she wants it? No. They don't want a diva, Sharpay. And that's all you are!"

"I'm going to catch up with my friends for dinner, Ryan. I'm sorry that you think that," Sharpay spoke plainly, her calmness still there.

And she left.

* * *

I remember it rained that night. As soon as Sharpay left, a light mist began to fall from the sky. With every passing moment, it came down harder and faster than before.

I prefer to believe it was a sign. That, just maybe, it was inevitable. That the heavens began to cry as Sharpay left, and as every second brought the accident closer, their crying came down thicker and more powerful than before. That they knew what was going to happen, and their tears were just a warning to us all.

A man went out to meet up with his friends for a party, hoping to get into some trouble. It was a typical Saturday night for him.

Now, he's spending his time in prison for what happened, for the pain he brought so many. The trouble he was hoping to get into is now the consequence of his decisions.

Like they say, be careful what you wish for.

* * *

The red and blue of the police and ambulance lights reflected off of the wet road I stood on. I was frozen in shock. My hearing went in and out. Small snippets of conversation processed in my brain, before returning to a hazy fuzz. My parents were holding it together well, given we didn't know what would happen to Sharpay because we still didn't know the extent of her injuries.

Ten minutes after I saw the weak body of my sister being wheeled away, Gabriella called my cell phone.

"Ryan, have you seen Sharpay? She was going to meet us for dinner, but we haven't seen her. You're welcome to come too!" I couldn't even form the words to respond to her. I could hear voices in the background. Troy and Chad, and Taylor and Kelsi. Faintly, I could hear the buzz of the news. The voice of the news reporter that was standing just twenty feet from me. "Ryan, we'll be right there."

* * *

Sharpay was driving safely, as always. She was on a small country road, on her way to meet up with our friends for dinner.

He was driving by himself, recklessly and drunk. His friends sent him out to pick up more beer. His blood alcohol level was .16 that night. He shouldn't have been anywhere near a car. But, he was.

...

When they arrived, Gabriella ran up to me and held me. Only then did I cry. I completely broke, shattering in the embrace of my petite friend. She didn't cry with me, she let me have my moment. My violent sobs shook me, the wails emitting from my chest unrecognizable.

Soon enough, I calmed down. And then, we went to the hospital.

...

I couldn't feel anything. I was numb for a week. My jaw wouldn't move. I couldn't speak for two weeks. The tears only dried up three weeks after the accident.

But, the pain? That's never left me. It rips at my heart everyday. It will continue to do this. Forever.

* * *

Like I said before, maybe it was inevitable. The road was small. There was no way she'd be able to get out of his way quick enough.

My beautiful sister went to cross the intersection. The man didn't see the stop sign, and kept driving over the speed limit, his speedometer at 65 miles.

The last thing she saw was the bright glare of another person's headlights growing closer and closer. That couldn't be right. She tried swerving to the right, but he hit her dead on. Her head slammed into the now broken window, and then it was black.

...

My sister died that night. The sobs of my friends as their hearts broke was so hard to watch. Seeing my father cry for the first time in my life, was almost too much to bear. But, the worst? The screaming of my mother. The agony of the knowledge that her baby girl would never wake up again. Would never sing or dance again. Would never laugh again. Would no longer be able to say, "I love you, mom."

The sound of that scream was heart wrenching, and made the hair on my arms stand up. That was the worst.

* * *

I feel guilty when I smile. To me, it's unacceptable that even for a moment I could be happy in this world without my sister. I tell myself I don't deserve to feel good when the last thing I said to her was an insult. I shouldn't be able to laugh when the last thing that I told her was that she wasn't worthy of her scholarship, even though I know in my heart, she deserved it more than anyone else.

But, sometimes I can't control it. Sometimes I am happy. In those brief moments, it's feels so good, but it doesn't feel right.

The rain still scares me. It instills me with a cold fear, reminding me of all the events that lead up to that night, and all the moments that happened after.

But, the rain is comforting, too. It's like an old friend I've become reacquainted with. It makes me feel like some way, somehow, she's trying to tell me it's okay. That it wasn't my fault. That she forgives me.

_Sometimes it rains. Sometimes I smile._

And that's all you need to know.


End file.
